Alone Again, Naturally
by Infamous Faete
Summary: Draco Malfoy is going to spend the holidays alone. Or is he? implied slash, rather sad im told


**Title**: Alone Again, Naturally

**Characters/Ships**: Just Draco

**Author**: _Infamous Faete_

**Summary**: Draco is going to spend Christmas alone. Or is he?

**Prompt**: from_ WingFetish_- it's Christmas time and Draco spends the holiday alone, angst/drama, keep it below NC-17. (ok, I pushed the limits and she was vague to begin with, so this is a bit off, but I used her summary, so there)

**Beta:** the ever lovely _WingFetish_ herself.

_Alone Again, Naturally._

That damnedable song was playing again, on a _Muggle _radio no less. As Draco sipped at his nightly glass of brandy, he sneered in the general direction of the noise. It served him right for even considering the thought of speaking to a Mudblood, never mind one as tasteless and musically challenged as Granger. And she thought this was a fitting revenge for refusing to let her admittance to the Manor for the holidays? HA, she should have known him better than that.

This wouldn't be the first Yule Draco would spend alone in the Manor, nor would it be the last. Ever since that fool, Potter, had killed off the rest of the Malfoy name, he had been alone for every holiday, why should it be so different after the wanker finally managed to off himself, dragging the Dark Lord down with him? Really, the thought that Draco would need company this first Yule of the 'New Age of Magic' as they called it, it was absolutely absurd.

He didn't need anyone, no matter what that bitch said. She could curse him out all she wanted, Draco Malfoy was no child to be coddled and ordered off to bed for his own good. He was a _Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake! If watching Potter die didn't kill him, something as ridiculous as holiday alone would not break him. He did not need some Mudblood dirtying his home. If the bitch needed comfort, she should come out and say it; besides which, she had a house full of Weasels just looking to care for her, in her 'delicate condition'.

So what if Potter and he had been planning for months to spend Yule and Christmas, whatever Muggle holiday _that _was, mourning their lost youths over some firewhiskey and fine cuisine. It had just been some little plan, thrown together rather haphazardously, if Draco did say so himself. Besides, one day without Potter was no big disaster, they had seen each other quite enough before the….. before that last day. Potter had been practically living in the Manor for the past few years, working with Draco on collecting and destroying those stupid antiques Voldie left behind. If anything, this nice holiday alone was a nice reprieve, a chance to meditate and re-focus his priorities.

Granger and her incessant worrying were really pushing the limits. She was awfully dumb for being the 'smartest witch of her age'. Obviously she bought into the rumors around Potter and himself, rumors with absolutely no ground. Except for that one night, which they had agreed never happened. And she was reading too much into Potter and his final actions before he…. before he went off to play hero his last time.

Really, Potter and his stupidity. Spent much too much of his free time with that fool, Dumbledore. Dumbledore and his cryptic statements. Dumbledore, who had sent Draco all of Potter's things and a supposed condolences letter asking him to eulogize the prat. But how could he get up and talk about that final day? Could he go up there and tell the truth, tell people that Potter's final words were an apology to Draco. Could he find the strength to tell people Potter had claimed to love him best of all, whatever that meant.

And that was the thing: he couldn't. No matter how he hated the git for saying things neither of them wanted to hear and then walking away. Dumbledore had one thing right. Draco did know Potter, and he knew him better than most. In fact, he knew Potter well enough _not_ to expose him to the world. Harry would want a quiet memorial, with just his friends laughing over old times. Draco was the only person to know Potter's final thoughts before he entered the Riddle house, and Potter would want him to take that to his grave.

A sudden hoot distracted Draco from his, admittedly slightly drunken, rant. Hedwig, the silly creature, had been living in the Manor since Potter's little 'accident', guarding some sort of package on the rafter of Draco's bedchamber. Why the filthy creature had chosen that spot of all places to rest was beyond him, especially considering how considerate he had been, offering her a prime nest in the Owlery on the roof.

Now she was on the fireplace, clawing at the mantle, staring Draco right in the eye. He glared at her, wishing she would just leave him alone. Unfortunately, he couldn't ward against a bird the way he could a Mudblood. He pulled a bit of food off the ignored plate next to him, and offered his arm. Hedwig flitted over and took the bite before clawing Draco once and taking off toward her nest. Before he even had time to glare, she was returning, lugging that package from hell, and with some sort of parchment stuck to the side. It was dropped in his lap and Hedwig perched on Draco's shoulder, nuzzling his head in some animal form of comfort.

Draco pulled the parchment off, noticing his named scrawled in Harry's familiar hand. He set it aside, knowing it must be Potter's last words to him, either that or his last will and testament. Either way, he refused to deal with the turmoil which would inevitably turn up. Instead, he pulled the top off of the box sitting on his knees. It was the worse choice. Inside was nestled a worn Pensieve, surrounded by what must have been dozens upon dozens of small bottles: Potter's memories, clearly. Quickly glancing through them, Draco noticed they were labeled. Over half must have included the phrase 'Malfoy'. Damned Potter.

And damned Granger, knowing Draco would want her around for his first holiday alone. And damned Dumbledore for knowing how much Potter cared for him. Damned alcohol for making him so emotional. And, again, damned Potter, making him so soft that a little box could tear him down. And damned everyone, knowing that this must have been coming and not warning him. Draco was angry, angry for caring, angry that he would give up anything and everything to have Potter here, and angry that Potter knew that Draco would grasp at anything, even memories to see Potter again. Snatching up the note from the box, Draco angrily wiped away tears with a fist, wanting to get the pain all over with at once.

The note had one line on it-

_I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams._


End file.
